Where did the year go? I’m still processing, and not quite ready to recap 2004 yet (though it was oh so much better than 2003). So do I resolve to be realistic about my expectations for the new year, or go for the Mondo Beyondo when looking ahead? Maybe a little bit of both. I don’t want to set myself up for failure, so I’ll throw a few things out there that would be, you know, nice for 2005 (if not terribly exciting). I would like to:

• edit my first novel before I start writing its sequel;
• ensure the little man is matched up to an educational environment that most closely matches his needs. We are on this path, with his upcoming evaluation at the Children’s Hospital, but I do intend to follow through;
• migrate this site to the CMS the husband’s put together for me (I have just ordered new parts so the husband can assemble me a new, much faster computer);
• have my actual body weight more closely match the number listed on my driver’s license;
• see the husband get a day job, so that we might actually be able to hang out…and sleep in the bed at the same time, rather than in shifts. That would be novel.

Now for the much sexier and highly improbable list. However unlikely…

• Have at my disposal an arsenal of high quality digital cameras, new lenses, and other accessories (including a professional quality photo printer) to continue my photographical adventures. And taking it one step further, getting set up with video equipment and classes to further document my life (that thought should make the husband cringe);
• Get some globetrotting in. Say, a trip to England with my boys, lounging in Italy with Zophia, Taiwan with Dave and Huey-Ling, with a sidetrip to Beijing to visit April, and a toyshopping spree in Japan for good measure. Closer to home, Canada to visit my favorite goalie and his kin, and further away, a sojourn to Lebanon to meet my long-lost cousins (in reality, I’ll be lucky if I make that tentatively planned trip to the Bay Area in 2005).
• Home renovation. First, the damage control. A new roof, new electrical wiring, new boiler, new water heater, new siding, replace the falling down fence in the backyard. Then the fun stuff. Refinishing all the hardwood floors. An addition on the back of the house with a fireplace and a second bathroom. A completely revamped kitchen, with cupboards I can reach, and flooring that isn’t peeling mauve linoleum. And hey, how about a garage?
• After renovating the house, put it on the market and magically make enough of a profit to move the family unit to Berkeley. Now I’m really tilting at windmills, huh?
• And finally, the ultimate daydream. Getting a book deal to have one or more of my novels published. Ha!

But really. My life is pretty danged good as it is. I just need to push myself a little harder, to combat my tendency towards sloth (she writes while still wearing pajamas). Apparently the husband’s one and only goal for the new year is to control the weather. What can I say, he thinks big.
Bonus: Tonight you can catch the Four Polite White Men of the Apocalypse on TPT at 7pm (a couple of weeks ago two of our compatriots from New Patriot shared a short segment on Almanac, with Powerline bloggers Scott Johnson and John Hinderaker). It’s also online here.

Chuck, this is all for you babe. You owe me a dollar

(#7 is the one you’re looking for, though it’s from 1986 rather than 1985). I can’t believe I’m about to post this. I must really be a masochistic exhibitionist. All right, I am about to unleash a partial history of my hairstyles (and glasses and outfits), good, bad and anywhere in between. Sadly my scanner is too crappy to do most of these photos justice, so a lot of them look a bit washed out. And not all incarnations of my hairstyles are represented, as I’ve never been too interested in pictures of myself. The thing about them, well, for the most part they’re taken by other people. Which means I’m not in complete control. I’m far more used to being the subjector rather than the subject, so being at the mercy of others doesn’t sit well with me. Control freak? Maybe. But here you can watch me grow up before your eyes, just like a sea monkey. And you can see where it all went so horribly wrong. Click to launch the gallery.
Bonus: Chuck’s reaction makes it all worthwhile. But now I want to see proof of his permed mullet from senior year. Lorika, a little help maybe? The husband’s reaction has been less favorable (see photo 30, from 2001, and his now obscured head). Sigh.

It feels somehow wrong to carry on with business as usual, while there is so much (extra) doom and gloom in the world. But I’ve been trying to take advantage of my time to strengthen connections with those close to me, as much as possible. A good friend, Miss Delia Jane has been home from Chicago for over a week now, but today we had our first opportinity to get together. And it happened to be on the eve of her departure. I’m glad we had the time to catch up over a leisurely late afternoon lunch at Evergreen, which we followed with a shared slice of vegan cheesecake at Muddy Paws.

Back at the ranch the little man and I enjoyed a quiet evening. Our only excitement…discovering some leftover christmas crackers. He tore into them and claimed the yo-yo and plastic fangs, while I crowned myself. Twice. Since then I’ve taken care of some work, and had a little photoshop fun. It was high time to ditch my old self-portrait on the about page. I’ve gone through more than a few hair colors in the intervening years, and have, obviously, aged some as well. The new photo tells it like it is, so to speak.

Bonus: Always read the fine print before signing.
Random: On the way to Minneapolis this afternoon I spotted a stalled pickup truck on the side of the freeway. These things happen. But the bed of this particular truck happened to be holding a Star Wars pinball machine.
Plus: “These are the People in My Neighborhood” (well, in Heather and Derek’s neighborhood, at any rate).
And: Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me (via Coudal, via The Twilight Lounge via some other guy). My favorite part, the keyboard player in the background.

Weird week. I rather arbitrarily won a poster from Coudal. Yay! And yesterday I randomly received email from an old friend, one I haven’t seen in a decade.
And Chuck’s got me totally hooked on Ryanne’s Video Blog. I especially like the one where she’s hanging out with her family, in the kitchen, all talking about decentralizing the media. And I’m a little freaked out by Dylan’s video blog. Though it was oh-so-long-ago, I clearly remember being 11, 12 years old…and being a dark haired girl alone in her room listening to The Cure, The Smiths and The Sex Pistols on vinyl, only there was no video camera involved in my case. Good thing too, as I was sporting some really bad hair at the time, and wearing those HUGE 80s-style glasses, with big burgundy plastic frames.
Bonus: Boy Scout Troop 666
Plus: The trailer for Colour Me Kubrick is compelling.
And: I want one of these t-shirts.

We’ve had another good day. The little man’s paternal grandma agreed to watch the lad for a few hours, so that his Auntie D and I could catch a movie. We headed to Har Mar for a showing of The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. What can I say about it? I’m still thinking it through. It’s been described as “a zany soap opera at sea” but that doesn’t quite cover it for Wes Anderson’s latest funny-sad film. I’ll agree that it “makes little sense but is still fun to watch” and just say it’s something to behold. And I’ll admit to a bit of a crush on Brazilian singer Seu Jorge (who plays Pelé dos Santos, one of Steve’s minions). Yeah. Now as the year is winding down I’ve got to get back to work. Client work, getting the house ready for our annual New Year’s Eve potluck, visiting with family from out of town, setting up play dates for the little man…and keeping myself away from Katamari Damacy.
Bonus: Onomatopoeia around the world (from MeFi).

The whirlwind activity of the last couple days isn’t grinding to a halt, but at least it’s slowing down some. I don’t think I’ll be fully recovered until well into next year. Xmas Eve was spent at my Dad’s in the ‘burbs, carrying on our family tradition of watching the Pee Wee’s Playhouse Christmas Special, this time in DVD format with the commentary on. The below photo, of the teevee framed by the candy cane, captures a scene with Pee Wee in his giant green snowsuit.

Xmas Day we started out bright and early. Beginning with the little man tearing into presents from his momma, naturally. Afterwards we headed over to my in-laws for brunch. There the little man received the best present ever. My mother-in-law is one of the craftiest women I know (also on that list, Zophia’s awesome mom). She knit the lad the most gorgeous sweater, with matching hat (but in the blurry photo below the husband’s wraithlike hand is visible coming into the frame from the left, which is weird). From his folks the husband received a Lego helicopter set, for himself, but this has been one of the most hotly contested gifts our household has ever known. Despite the dozens of gifts the little man has gotten this holiday season, he has repeatedly tried to claim this one as his own, even going so far as attempting to banish the husband to his room so that the lad could have it all to himself.

Mid-day we moved on to another suburb to see the little man’s bio-dad’s family, with bonus surprise visit from the bio-dad himself. There the lad’s paternal grandmother made vegan xmas cookies, and set it up so he could frost them himself. He was concentrating so intently he didn’t even complain about me whipping out my camera.

We had a brief break back at the homestead, maybe an hour or so, then it was back out, this time to the airport. A grateful Dave and Huey-Ling squeezed into our car and treated the lot of us to a late night dinner at Evergreen, while regaling us with tales of all the vegan-friendly restaurants they visited while on the East Coast. Exhausted, we finally returned home just before 11pm. The little man had stayed up about 2.5 hours later than his usual bedtime, and this morning slept in about two hours past his usual start time. It’s going to be tricky to get him back into the routine when school resumes next week. On a more serious note, one of my sisters-in-law is currently in Sri Lanka with her husband, visiting his family for the holidays. We received word this morning that they are okay, thankfully. But thousands of poor souls are not.

Last night I had an odd dream. In it Paul Westerberg told me, point blank, that I was getting fat and should lay off the baked goods. Wtf? I mean, he’s not wrong, but still. There was also something about a party in a moving house, but that’s another story. Now it’s time to get in gear for our whirlwind weekend. Christmas Eve is always spent with my Dad so we’re headed over there shortly. Tomorrow morning we’re booked with the in-laws, then on to the little man’s bio-Dad’s parents’ house (confusing enough?) for the afternoon. The last stop in the evening sees us off to the airport, to retrieve Dave and Huey-Ling (who aren’t related to us by blood or marriage, but are family nonetheless). That adventure includes the possibility of takeout from Evergreen. Except Sunday we’re slated to have lunch there with Delia Jane. Oh well. On the homefront, I’ve got a husband who doesn’t believe in obligatory gifts (or holidays), so I’m going to pretend the three cases of soy milk he brought home are just for me. Actually, he did make some apple galettes for me, while I was sleeping last night. But only because it’s all he could think of to appease his riled up wife (but like Mr. Westerberg said, that’s the last thing I need). Tensions can run especially high during the holidays, for some of us. I’m surprised the little man hasn’t commanded me to “slettle down” yet.
Bonus: These Christmasbots are the best-looking cookies I’ve ever seen.
Plus: Yay, Lane is back, and in newly revamped style. And just check out the craziness of his hockey-playing adventures with Avril Lavigne. I couldn’t make this up. Seriously.

Some randomness on the morning of the eve of Christmas Eve. Yeah.
First off, Mightygirl recently interviewed a friend of hers, one who has become a published author. I appreciate the topic, especially now that I’m raising a boy with blossoming OCD tendencies. This is my favorite line: “needing to tap doorknobs is slightly weirder than needing to inject insulin.” I’m tempted to buy the book.

Events like San Francisco’s annual Santarchy extravaganza and the Dance Along Nutcracker, combined with their distinct lack of -4°F weather, only makes me want to move there even more. Sadly that’s not in the cards just now, but hopefully I’ll get to visit again before long.

It’s not quite robot love, but more like Mecha love (and, not moveable, but this motionless BattleMech Treehouse is still pretty danged cool). Also, in the future Origami will fold itself. I give you Oribotics.

About the woman who dropped $50,000 to clone her dead cat:

“It’s morally problematic and a little reprehensible,” said David Magnus, co-director of the Center for Biomedical Ethics at Stanford University. “For $50,000, she could have provided homes for a lot of strays.”

I’d have to concur. In another article Magnus went on to say:

“I can completely sympathize with people who become so attached to their pet that they want to bring it back at any cost, but there is nothing that can bring that animal back,” Magnus said. “Attempting to do so is unhealthy. It’s trying to pretend that death doesn’t exist, which speaks to a larger symptom in our culture of not dealing with death. It’s better to just move on. There is no good reason why anybody would do this.”

Enough said. And finally, something that made me smile:

“Ruby Tuesday? I love that song!” Then I’ll mumble something along the lines of, “Of course you do, ass. That’s why you loaded it into the iPod.”

You are not alone Schpinky. Though I don’t have an iPod (yet) I’ve made many a mix tape for the car and caught doing the same thing while driving along.

And so it begins. So much to do. So many places to be. There have already been some good times this week. The little man created the most beautiful xmas cards, mostly on his own (with just a very little help from me). But I loved them so much I couldn’t possibly give them away. If it’s hard to discern the subjects, they are, starting clockwise: a train; a teddy bear/snowman hybrid; an ostrich-like bird; a house; and an xmas tree.

Last night we went to the neigbhors’ house for a lovely little holiday party. Our hermitude began in earnest when the temperatures plunged, so even though our yards are connected, it had been weeks since we’d seen any of said neighbors. From here on out we’re going to make concerted efforts to hang out on a more regular basis.

Then this morning an old friend came over. It was the first time we’d seen each other in two years, as she’s hardly been in Minnesota since we graduated from high school. The little man didn’t remember her, but they bonded over a mutual love of Pee Wee’s Playhouse and French Toast (special secret tip: the latter is really tasty, and easy, when made with Silk Nog). But there have been some bad times this week as well. A migraine knocked me on my ass for more than two days, and I’m still feeling the after effects…flashing lights in the corner of my left eye, general queasiness, and an achey neck. What the heck? Hopefully ibuprofen will help me get by for the rest of this week’s work and festivities.
Bonus: Congratulations to Chuck, whose Blogumentary scored a favorable review in Mother Jones magazine.
Plus: Bearskinrug gets redesigned, and Danny Gregory fulfills his last resolution for ‘04. If I could only follow through in the same way.

The gifts I’ve purchased for the little man this year have mainly been educational in nature, though still fun (yeah, I can hear him now, “my mom says they’re cool” - sigh). But I could kick myself. I ordered a very nice memory game for him, yet just after it arrived I found a few that I like much better, and at half the price. Yarr. Speaking of toys…this dancing boobah doll bears a striking resemblance to a certain elder god. Creepy.
Plus: Only in Minnesota…Arena’s exploding Zamboni injures one. For a more personal take on it, the Gods of Broomball might be sending Nick a message (according to his brother).
And: I’ve long been in love with Asimo. Yes, robot love. It’s just so danged cute.